


The Mask He Wears

by orphan_account



Series: Heaven Fires Universe [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, M/M, Post Season/Series 07, Purgatory, pre dean/cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-07
Updated: 2012-12-07
Packaged: 2017-11-20 14:08:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/586201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amelia Novak can't forgive the angel who wears her husband's face, even as he is trapped in Purgatory and heaven is crumbling.  [Pre-D/C. Post-season 7. Part 1 of Heaven Fires Universe]</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mask He Wears

Amelia goes by the name Amy now. It's similar to her original name, but she was assured by the rough sounding hunter on the phone that it would suffice to hide her.

 

She's taken a new surname. It's ordinary, unremarkable. There is nothing in her records now that would lead anyone back to Pontiac Illinois and the man currently living with the grace of an angel.

 

She got her first tattoo days after her escape from the demons. The same attack that changed her daughter so irrevocably and stole her husband from her.

 

It's an anti-possession mark, located at the notch of her sternum. Never again will she be taken as she was by the demons that caused her to shoot her husband.

 

Her daughter did not require any tattoos. There are sigils carved in rings around her wrists, stronger protection than anything Amelia could give her. The angel had left them there, white and shiny. Often she catches Claire staring at them, running her finger over the patterns.

 

Her daughter is quiet now.

 

She'd been a well adjusted, happy girl before Jimmy had left. Now she's reserved, introverted. She says little, but thinks a lot. There is such depth behind her brilliant blue eyes. So much like her fathers.

 

Amelia works 8-4 as a cleaner at the local motel. It's minimum wage, but it's inconspicuous. She gets the feeling from the other girls working there that this is a place to disappear, a job to hide in. Nobody asks questions and that's the way everybody likes it.

 

After her day job she works as a travelling hairdresser. An out of hours service where she goes to people’s houses. Many praise her for her skill, wonder why she doesn't do it full time. But it's too close to the truth of Amelia Novak and she wants to distance herself from that life.

 

She returns how late most nights. She always finds Claire alone in her room, reading, or writing in her journal in symbols Amelia can't understand. She's never asked her daughter about those symbols. She can guess though, it's something the angel imparted on her daughter, the symbols stunningly similar to the ones Clair wears in her skin.

 

Amelia went on a date once. It was a year after Jimmy was taken for the final time. She'd met the man, Alan, at the supermarket. He was a single father, full of laughter and generosity. He made Amelia uncomfortable with his normality and she never returned his calls. She doesn't think she'll try again.

 

In her heart she still holds Jimmy close. The ad space salesman with his deep religion and steady life. He had been her rock, her stability. When she thinks of Jimmy she thinks of home, of his big blue eyes and cracked pink lips. Jimmy was a sombre looking man but he lit up when he smiled. When he laughed, which he did seldom but well, his eyes sparkled and the surrounding skin crinkled.

 

Those periods of levity were all the more special because of Jimmy's normal seriousness. He was never bad tempered, but he was not free with his emotions.

 

She loved every smile she teased from him. She loved his long supple fingers, the way his hair would curl slightly before he styled it, the way he was both strong and fragile.

 

Some nights it almost seems too much and she can't stand the loneliness.

 

* * *

 

 

"Mom?"

 

Amelia stirs but she doesn't want to wake. Sleep is taking her more and more often these days. If it wasn't for Claire she's not sure she'd have the strength to leave the bed.

 

"Mom?"

 

She twists to see her daughter. Claire is sixteen now and thin. She doesn't sleep well. Sometimes Amelia wonders if she sleeps at all. Although she eats constantly she still looks too thin, her face drawn, dark circles below her eyes.

 

"What is it baby?" Amelia asks still lost in sleep.

 

Claire's eyes are haunted. Amelia corrects herself, even more haunted than normal. There's always been something slightly off in Claire's gaze since she met the angel, but this is far beyond anything she's seen before.

 

"The angels are talking again."

 

Amelia bites her lip as she sits up trying to stop herself from yelling. She did at first when Claire would speak of the angels. She told her daughter to block it out, to forget the angels, not to listen to them.

 

Claire stopped talking about it. Stopped telling Amelia what the angels were saying, but she still listened. Amelia could see it in the way she sat, eyes glazed over, occasionally smiling.

 

About a year ago though the voices stopped and Claire became even more insular and lonely. Before she had been cut off but content, now she was mourning.

 

She'd never mourned for her father. But she mourned the angels.

 

"What are they saying?"

 

Amelia managed to keep her tone neutral though inside she could feel her anger boiling hot. She'd have faith at first, she went to church. She'd never been as deeply religious as Jimmy was, but then she knew her husband had a belief deeper than most. Now she hated the angels, despised their god. She knew they were real, but she'd be damned if she was ever forced to believe in them.

 

Claire's attention is lost again. Her eyes are so blue, the same as her father's. They look like glass, catching every facet of the early morning light.

 

"They want me to let them in," she whispers. She's been scratching at her wrists, the white scars ringed with angry red. There's blood under her fingernails.

 

"Castiel?"

 

Amelia rockets out the bed at the angel’s name. It's been years since she's allowed herself to even think it. Claire knows she must not say it.

 

"No," the girl shakes her head. "Oh no. Please. You can't."

 

Amelia takes her daughter shoulders, tries to get those blue eyes to focus on her face as she babbles the words she knows won't be enough.

 

"Claire. Ignore them. Put them out of your mind. Here baby, I'm here."

 

Claire goes loose in her arms, she's distressed, panicked.

 

"Claire!" Amelia snaps.

 

"He's gone mom," her daughter wails. "They lost him. Oh mom the things he did."

 

Amelia smooths Claire's hair, tries to find her daughter in the panic.

 

"Claire sweetie. You don't want to see him baby. Remember what he did to us? To your father?"

 

Claire leans her head against Amelia's collar bone, slowly circling her arms around her mum’s neck.

 

"Heaven knows what he did. God is missing. God is missing! Gabriel dead. Lucifer and Michael trapped in the pit. Castiel was their only hope. Raphael would have destroyed the world. He would have destroyed us all."

 

Amelia pushes her daughter back, grips her tight around her raw wrists. But she listens now, as Claire sobs the things she's refused to hear the last few years, the battle for earth going on she wasn't aware of.

 

"Castiel opened purgatory. He used the souls there to become strong enough to win. He wanted things to be better again."

 

Claire's shaking under her hands. The first tear falls and Amelia can make no move to mop it aside. Claire doesn't even seem to notice.

 

"The souls were too strong. He became what he was fighting."

 

The feeling of justness grows in Amelia but Claire shakes her head.

 

"No mum. He won. He cast the souls back. But he'd awoken something stronger than the angels."

 

Claire pulls her wrists from her mother leaving her kneeling on the floor. She backs away, there is a darkness behind her eyes.

 

"Leviathan."

 

The house shakes at the name. The sunny morning has turned to dark clouds. Claire looks around as she takes another step back.

 

Now when she speaks her voice is scared, small, whereas before she'd been crying but passionate.

 

"Leviathan," she repeats, whispering as if not to invoke the thing she speaks of. "Castiel destroyed them, but now he's lost. Trapped. In purgatory."

 

She turns suddenly and a man in a suit is standing behind her.

 

Amelia rushes forward to grab her daughter, pulling her from the man.

 

"Claire Novak?" he asks. His voice gentle, his whole manner that of a teacher, a carer.

 

"Which one are you?" Claire asks as Amelia hugs her tighter to herself. Nobody was going to take her daughter from her.

 

"My name is Sabrael," the angel answers with a small smile. It's almost shy this Sabrael.

 

"You want to help Castiel?"

 

Sabrael nods. "There are so few of us left," he says rubbing his head, a gesture of fatigue that seems very human to Amelia. "Castiel was... is my brother. Heaven needs change. Restructuring. We want him by our side when the new rule is decided."

 

Claire looks at her mother. Amelia shakes her head, tears form in her eyes, but she can't keep hold of her daughter, just like she couldn't keep hold of her husband.

 

"He's not evil," Claire says to the angel after she's pulled herself from Amelia's arms.

 

Sabrael nods, the same sweet shy smile on his lips. "I know. I have known Castiel for centuries, millennia. I have also known Raphael and I sided with Castiel even though I did not believe he could win. It was the right thing to do. But power corrupts. Raphael has shown us that, as did Lucifer before. I am not sure I can ever forgive Castiel for what he did, but I know he was not Castiel when he killed my brothers and sisters."

 

He reaches out a hand and Claire takes it.

 

* * *

 

 

Four years since Claire disappeared Amelia remains in hiding. She never stays in one city for long. The road is her home now. Her clothes are folded in the trunk, what little cash she has kept close to her heart.

 

She's in a small town she can't even remember the name of when she runs into Sam Winchester.

 

He doesn't recognise her at first. Her hair is dark now where before it was a strawberry blonde. She's no longer the perfect housewife, instead wearing ripped combats and an old shirt tied at her waist.

 

Heart in her throat she watches him as he sits alone in the diner she's trying to pick up a few shifts to tide her over. She loses interest in the pudgy manager openly leering at her and makes her way over to the hunter.

 

He remains the same tall, muscled man she met all those years ago. His hair is longer now though, curling at his nape and tucked back behind his ears. He hasn't shaved this morning.

 

She recognises the writing in the book he's reading intently. It's the same language Claire's journal was written in, the same one she spoke in her sleep. It's a harsh language, but still there's a deep poetry in the rough syllables.

 

Sam quickly becomes aware that someone’s watching him so she give up the pretence and sits down opposite.

 

It takes a while for recognition to dawn.

 

"Amelia?" he breaths putting another book on the page he's reading as a temporary bookmark.

 

"Hi Sam." She's nervous, but then again the last time she saw him her husband was ripped away from her. He's just a hunter, but he's caught up in the war.

 

"What? What are you doing here?"

 

Sam seems genuinely interested, there's a note of fear in his voice as if he knows she wouldn't approach him if things were going ok for her. There's also fatigue, whatever he's working on is important to him.

 

"Just passing through," she answers not wanting to say it, that she lost her daughter and therefore the only thing left in her life. "You?"

 

"Meeting another hunter," Sam says openly. There's nothing to hide from Amelia, she knows it all too well. "Trying to find a way to purgatory."

 

Amelia pinches her lips together tight but she can't stop the hissed words. "To save the angel?"

 

Sam's surprised, it shows openly on his honest face. He had struck her as the more open brother when they'd first met, the one closer to his emotions. Dean had been a fiery pool of passion and contradictions. Now she wasn't so sure about Sam though. He's open and kind, but there was a scar on him that runs deep through his soul. This is a man who's made terrible mistakes and hasn't always been strong enough.

 

"Yes. And my brother. How do you..?"

 

"Claire," Amelia breaks in finding she just wants to get it over with, this talk of angels and purgatory. And Claire. Worst of all Claire. "They took her. The angels are trying to find a way to free Castiel."

 

The name is bitter on her tongue.

 

"Claire!" Sam winces. "You should have called Bobby."

 

Amelia shrugs. It had crossed her mind, but she didn't want to see these hunters again and she had no faith they'd be able to stop the angels. "And what would you have done about it?"

 

Sam goes to speak but he's brought up short. There's nothing he could have done. And his brother would always come first.

 

"Who took her?" he asks instead, determination burning anew behind his stare.

 

"An angel. Sabrael he called himself. He said that the angels died, there aren't many of them left." She rubs her eyes as she speaks feeling the anger pound like a headache. "They don't blame him. They want him back. They're going to start anew."

 

Sam is struck. She sees his soft brown eyes relax. This, to him, is good news at least. Heaven is helping to find his brother.

 

Sam has a kind soul whatever evils Amelia stows on him. He tilts his head to the side and lets his calm pacify her. "I'm working on getting Dean and Cas out of purgatory. Once they're free the angels won't need Claire anymore. I'll make sure they return her too you."

 

Her heart skips. She wants so desperately to believe him.

 

* * *

 

 

The phone call from Sam wakes her at four in the afternoon.

 

After meeting him at the diner she'd gone straight back to her motel room and cried herself to sleep. As she looks at the digitalised clock on her phone she realises she's slept for 26 hours.

 

"Sam?" she answers.

 

"What motel are you staying in?"

 

She pushes herself out the bed hoping it will clear her confusion.

 

"Sam what? Why?"

 

"I found a way. Amelia I found a way to get Dean out of Purgatory."

 

Amelia almost falls back onto the bed. Her knees have gone weak and she's trembling.

 

If Castiel is free then Claire will be returned to her.

 

Her voice shakes as she tells him where she is and he vows to pick her up in five minutes.

 

She's already waiting on the curb when Sam pulls up minutes later. Amelia doesn't hesitate to climb in the car and Sam pulls off before she's even managed to shut the door.

 

* * *

 

 

Sam drives till they reach a flat and open field miles from any town. There's an abandoned farmhouse a mile down the road but other than that it's isolated. Bales of straw rest in the upper east corner, stacked high in a pyramid shape.

 

Sam pulls a large canister of oil from the trunk of the old black car and starts to walk in a large circle, pouring oil as he goes.

 

He cuts the circle into lines and symbols that Amelia can't make out. Part of the spell she assumes.

 

He returns to her with a solemn look on his face.

 

"Amelia this kind of magic requires sacrifice."

 

She knows from the way he bites his lip it won't be an easy sacrifice to make.

 

"We're the link," he explains. "It's our blood that will bring them to us. Claire would have been better as she's Cas's blood, but you were important to Jimmy, you'll still be able to call him."

 

Amelia goes rigid. "I'm the link for Castiel?"

 

"For Jimmy," Sam says kindly. He understands her feelings for the angel.

 

"But my husband won't return?"

 

Sam rolls his lips again, unsure of how to explain.

 

"The angel wearing his face will." She clenches her fists and reminds herself this isn't about Castiel, not really. It's not even about Jimmy. Amelia is here for Claire. This is a means to an end and she will do anything to get her daughter back. "What do I do?"

 

Sam takes her hands, holding them palm up before pouring the sweet smelling oil over them.

 

Amelia feels sick to her stomach. The sweetness is too much and she wants to wretch. She holds it together for Claire's sake.

 

Same wets his own hands. "Copy me exactly." He touches a thumb to the hollow of his neck before using his left forefinger to draw a symbol on his right arm. Amelia copies him with precise movements. Another symbol on her left arm before he motions for her to turn. He dabs a dot to the nape of her neck and then turns for her to do the same for him.

 

It scares her when he flicks open a lighter. It scares her more when he lights it and chucks it at the circle surrounding them.

 

The flames ignite with a black light, pulling the light from the sky. They tower over the two of them as she tries not to cower.

 

Amelia can feel the flames pulling the life from the world.

 

And all the time Sam is chanting low under his breath.

 

The fire takes Sam first. He flinches but he continues to chant the spell that is slowly becoming ingrained in Amelia's very cells.

 

First his hands are engulfed and then the sigils drawn on his arms, the dots on his neck. He stubbornly continues, refusing to swipe at the fire.

 

The heat is becoming unbearable and Amelia knows it will only get worse.

 

Sam stumbles on the words, almost goes to his knees, hands out before him, the flames are causing his skin to bubble.

 

"Oh god Jimmy," Amelia whispers praying for her dead husband she's trying to recall. Then she takes up Sam’s chant. He glances at her, shocked but grateful.

 

Her hands catch fire. At first it's not painful as the oil burns. She lifts her chin as her neck catches. Tears prick her eyes. She continues Sam's chant, adding her voice to his low growl.

 

Amelia chokes out when the fire touches her skin for real. She manages to swallow the scream in her throat though.

 

She's never felt pain like this.

 

Somehow she forces herself to continue the chant. This has to work. She will accept no other possibility.

 

The black is growing. The light fading from the world.

 

Amelia concentrates on her burning hands, reminds herself why she's here, why the pain is a good thing.

 

Suddenly the black fire explodes and there is only darkness. The pain is gone in an instant, as is any strength Amelia has left. She falls to her knees, feels the sharp straw beneath her hands.

 

* * *

 

 

It's been eight years since Amelia last saw Jimmy Novak.

 

Eight years since she has looked into those blue eyes and saw the love he had for her.

 

Now she sees those eyes but they are fixed on another.

 

Castiel clutches Dean to him. The older Winchester brother is bloody and beaten. He's barely conscious, but he's holding on to Castiel as tight as Castiel is to him. Blood runs from a long gaping slash in his forehead. There are the remnants of previous injuries; a yellow green bruise on Dean's cheek, an old scab on his lip, almost healed now. He's covered in mud and blood, clothes torn, boots missing.

 

His hair remains short though and he has no beard which is the first thing Amelia learns of Purgatory. Time moves differently there.

 

Dean Winchester entered Purgatory four years ago at 33. He emerges the same.

 

He's a tall, solid young man with delicate lips, golden freckles and wide hazel green eyes.

 

Amelia remembers being stunned by the elder Winchester brother the first time she saw him. He's handsome. He's also a man of contradictions. Harsh in one instant but passionate and kind the next. He's loud and confident, but at the same time withdrawn and insular, hiding behind his wit and sarcasm. If Sam is a mystery to her then Dean is pure confusion.

 

Especially now as he looks up at the angel wearing her husband’s face.

 

Amelia can't work out the look.

 

Dean only removes one hand from Castiel as his brother scrambles over to him. Sam reaches him, pulls him into a long hug muttering curses under his breath.

 

Amelia looks away as he moves to include Castiel in his hug. The three look like a family, like the one stolen from her.

 

She focuses on her hands. The skin is pink and shiny but it doesn't hurt. It's a little tight over her bones as she clenches her fingers.

 

She can't keep her eyes from Jimmy for long and she turns back to see Sam sitting on his haunches as Castiel lifts Dean to his feet. The hunter is favouring his left leg, leaning heavily on Jimmy.

 

Castiel himself isn't in much better shape. His shirt is ripped, long ragged scars cross the pale skin of his chest. Skin Amelia remembers kissing in the dark.

 

She misses that skin. Jimmy has a long slender torso with the most gorgeous hip bones she's ever seen. He's got heavy tight muscles, the legs of a runner, a hiker. Jimmy never went the gym, or wasted time on exercise that was pure vanity. He enjoyed to run and they hiked as a family regularly. He's athletic next to Sam's bulky muscles and Dean's natural solidness.

 

Now Sam is running back to the car for a first aid kit he couldn't bring with him before because of magic needed for the spell would burn everything in the field. This leaves Dean and Castiel alone.

 

Amelia watches them, trying to figure out exactly what has caught her attention.

 

Dean is still leaning heavily, but he's looking up at Castiel like it's the first time he's ever seen the sun. He hasn't seen the sun in the four years he's been gone. The landscape doesn't interest him though, even though the sun is now shining bright in a brilliant blue sky. The day is beautiful, warm, with a soft wind blowing.

 

Castiel uses him thumb to wipe the blood that's dripping between Dean's brows. Dean's eyes follow his thumb as he pulls away but soon he is holding the angels eyes again. Jimmy's eyes.

 

Amelia feels a rush of jealousy. Jimmy used to look at her like that, like she was the only thing in the world.

 

Castiel's hand flutters back up, but he doesn't touch Dean. His hand hovers close to the brothers jaw for a moment, undecided, before dropping away. There are whispered words, soft and comforting. Castiel leans close to whisper to Dean even though Amelia is too far to hear them speaking. His nose brushes Dean's cheek, causes Dean to look up once more. The weary hunter smiles.

 

Amelia has never seen Dean smile like that. Before he's been brash, sarcastic and amused. Now he looks... Amelia settles on 'safe'. He looks like he's been saved.

 

* * *

 

 

Dean is lying out across the booth in the all but deserted motel diner. His head wound has been stitched by his brother and with the blood washed off of him he looks a lot healthier.

 

Sam sits across from him talking quietly. He looks at peace, the tensity gone from his expression.

 

Dean looks tired, but he's happy too. To be back with his brother. Amelia sees how much it means to him. He listens, occasionally nodding, until suddenly his eyes snap up and he's focused with his entire being.

 

Castiel walks in, stopping next to Amelia who's sitting by herself, letting the brothers have their private time.

 

The angel is as focused on Dean as Dean is on the angel. Sam doesn't notice, but Amelia does.

 

She tells herself to stop overthinking things and looks up at the husband she lost. He looks strange to her now, dressed in an old t-shirt and jeans she assumes are Deans. His hair is wet after his shower, curling slightly and sticking up in messy spikes.

Amelia closes her eyes. It's too familiar, but too far. Those small moments when Jimmy used to finish his shower and hadn't had chance to flatten his hair. The bits he sometimes missed and she'd have to flatten for him.

 

"We need to find Claire," she grinds out pushing aside thoughts of Jimmy and reminded herself why she's really here. Castiel is free to stare at Dean all he wants. It no longer matters to Amelia.

 

Castiel blinks down at her. His eyelashes curl slightly framing the beauty of the blue.

 

"I have sent a message to whoever is left. But Purgatory has weakened me and I cannot go to them."

 

It's true she supposes. He hasn't healed any of his wounds, or more importantly she realises, he hasn't healed any of Dean's.

 

"I have been cut off from heaven for too long."

 

"So we wait," Amelia says wanting to stop him. She doesn't want to hear that voice anymore, rougher now than Jimmy’s. It’s cold and emotionless, endlessly practical.

 

Amelia wonders what Dean's sees in Castiel. The hunter’s eyes have turned away but she doesn't suppose it's because Dean wants to look away. He doesn't want his brother to see the covert glances he throws Castiel's way. This is something Dean is confused about too, not yet ready to admit to anyone, including himself.

 

Castiel is cold and alien. He's a killer. He's done unspeakable things.

 

Yet Dean still looks at him as he is doing now, with complete wonder and trust.

 

Castiel shuffles from one foot to another and there was something almost pitiable about his discomfort. "Come join us," he says before heading for Sam and Dean.

 

Dean is still in pain, it's plain in the grimace he pulls as he sits up and moves over in the booth so Castiel can sit. Close, the angel sits so close. The angel in her husband’s body.

 

Sam smiles, this is his extended family and Amelia feels rude not to go join them given the nervous invitation.

 

She sits next to Sam.

 

"You know Sabrael?" Sam asks Castiel.

 

"Yes," Castiel answers. "He is my brother."

 

Amelia has to remind herself of the way the angels function. They're all god’s children, all brothers and sisters. There's the higher echelon, all now gone. The others are divided into garrisons. Castiel was a solider. He was a leader in the war of heaven, not the strongest but powerful all the same.

 

"Sabrael was always the sweetest of angels. He is strong despite appearances, but I believe him if he says he will not harm me."

 

Dean's quick on the uptake. "Cause otherwise you're not going."

 

"My daughter was taken by him!" Amelia can't stop herself from crying out. The others blink at her, the sudden loud intrusion.

 

"Then we'll find another way," Dean argues. "But Cas aint just going to walk into a room of angels who want him dead."

 

Amelia goes to argue again but Castiel stops them all with a word. "Dean," he growls low in his throat.

 

Dean goes quiet, eyes locked with Castiel's. There's something moving between them that both Amelia and Sam aren't privy too.

 

Finally Dean looks away first.

 

"I trust Sabrael. And in any case, I have to find Claire."

 

Amelia wants to thank him but he's still the man who stole her husband. She can only nod, clashing eyes with Dean.

 

"Heaven's in disarray," Sam explains. "They need you Cas."

 

"So few of my kind are left."

 

"Well that's Lucifer's fault, Raphael's fault," Dean butts in refusing to let Castiel wallow in self pity. "And God's fault. He should be there. Where is he? What kind of father is he?"

 

Castiel can't answer that. "Dean we have to regroup. Heaven is destitute. And God... is gone. We cannot hope for his help."

 

Dean purses his lips as he stares down at his coffee.

 

"You'll do a better job than he ever did. Hell you could burn the place to the ground and still have done a better job."

 

* * *

 

 

Amelia waits. Dean has long since gone to bed, helped by Sam. Castiel sits, eyes closed, deep in thought.

 

It's a long time before she can build up the courage to speak to him.

 

"Is he still there?"

 

Castiel's eyes open slowly, the blue luminous in the twilight. She swallows back the impact of those eyes.

 

"Jimmy?"

 

She nods, nervous herself now. Castiel isn't comfortable either but he hides it behind his emotionless practicality. "Yes. He is still here."

 

The words fall from her lips before she can stop herself. "Can I speak to him?"

 

Castiel can't hide his discomfort now. Amelia knows then that he could do it, that he could sit back and let Jimmy come to the foreground.

 

Castiel is saved by Dean entering the diner. He stands as Dean limps toward them.

 

"Couldn't sleep," he explains. He settles himself in the booth and closes his eyes.

 

"Dean you should be resting," Castiel chides.

 

It's strange this protectiveness for this one man Amelia thinks when he doesn't care at all for her feelings, or Jimmy's.

 

"I am," Dean waves him off. "Gemme some chicken."

 

Castiel scowls and ignores Dean, in a moment the hunters asleep anyway.

 

"I see the way you look at him," Amelia says back ramrod straight. "Is that why you won't let me speak with Jimmy?"

 

Castiel is confused. He tilts his head as if seeing the world from another angle will help him understand.

 

"The things Jimmy feels for me won't interfere with your own feelings," she says quickly, almost begging now. "You have emotions now don't you. You didn't before, but now you do."

 

Castiel looks down. He's so close to giving in, she can feel it.

 

"Please. He's my husband."

 

Castiel looks to Dean. He's sleeping softly now, obviously shattered despite his assertions before that he wasn't. After four years together in purgatory she supposes he has become used to be watched over by an angel.

 

"I had emotions," Castiel says low. "But now they are unchained."

 

Castiel closes his eyes once again and when he opens them there is a different light to them.

 

Amelia chokes out a gasp.

 

"Hey baby," Jimmy Novak says.

 

* * *

 

 

The light in the diner is dim as the sun sinks behind the horizon. The electric lights throw shadows across Jimmy's face so his cheekbones stand out in sharp relief.

 

Dean sleeps on, his breathing quiet.

 

"I thought I'd never see you again," Amelia says reaching for him. Her hand touches his jaw, the dark stubble that Jimmy stubbornly refused to let grow in.

 

"Me too baby. I was so scared. Claire..." He breaks off. "She's going to be ok."

 

"How can you say that? How can you still have faith?"

 

He leans forward, putting his hand over hers to keep it in place. "Because I'm in here. Castiel has the reigns but I'm still here."

 

Jimmy reaches for her, pulls her so that her forehead is against his.

 

"I know he wants to help her. He wouldn't hurt Claire."

 

Amelia melts into his touch. She's missed him so much. He feels the same, still a little awkward but willing to do whatever it takes to help her realise he really does love her.

 

"Sabrael will get back to us soon," he says. Then soft as a whisper. "How are you doing baby?"

 

She feels the tears form, but she smiles. "I'm ok sweetie."

 

"No you're not."

 

"No, I know. I miss you. I miss Claire."

 

He slides his hands either side of her neck, keeping them together. "I know. I wish I could be there for you."

 

"No," she says planting a small kiss on the end of his nose. "You did the right thing. You saved our baby."

 

Her tears bubble up as laughter and he joins her chuckle.

 

"She listens to the angels. She knows everything that's happened. I refused to listen, I wanted to forget."

 

"Sabrael won't hurt her, Cas is sure of it."

 

Amelia pulls away. She feels everything build to a peak of sadness inside of her. "Cas? You're calling him Cas now? He stole your life."

 

Jimmy shakes his head. He reaches for her but she moves back.

 

"I gave it to him."

 

"You didn't know," Amelia growls choked with emotion. "The things he'd do. Jimmy you ran. And you would not have let him back in if not for Claire."

 

Jimmy places his hands in his lap. He's shy and serious again. Her anger dissipates, this is the man she loves.

 

"Jimmy." She reaches for him, bringing his head to rest on her shoulder. "I love you. I love you."

 

He pulls her as close as he can across the diner table.

 

"I love you too baby. Know that. Even when I'm gone. We'll find Claire.

 

When Amelia looks up Dean is awake and watching them.

 

* * *

 

 

Amelia met Jimmy on the first day of college. Of course their first meeting was awkward and they got off on the wrong foot. Jimmy was an English major, whereas Amelia was in beauty school. Jimmy laughed and said she looked smarter than that.

 

The way he blushed and apologised, made her give him a second chance. She was glad he did because under his serious exterior was a man with a well of kindness unlike any she'd ever known. He loved her in ways she had never even thought to be loved before.

 

From the little things like reading her favourite books so he could talk with her about them and letting her practice on him when she had no models. To the big things like asking her father for her hand.

 

For a man like Jimmy to let her put eye shadow on him was more than she could ever express. He wrote about her constantly, little journal entries he'd leave on her bedside table, articles that seemed directly influenced by what she'd been talking about the week before. He'd leave her quotes from his favourite books and passages from the bible.

 

She never felt such love, such a kinship.

 

She feels that same bond now as he gives her a small smile and she knows their time is up.

 

Amelia can't watch Jimmy as he closes his eyes and becomes Castiel once more. Instead she watches Dean and the strange emotions running across his face.

 

At first when she looked up he was shocked. He hadn't known Castiel could do such a thing. Then she realises he hadn't known that Castiel had stepped back. What he had seen was Castiel hugging Amelia.

 

Realisation dawns slowly, but before there is a hurt to his eyes. She sees in him a mirror. The bond she shares with Jimmy is mirrored in the one Dean shares with Castiel. It's bone deep and impenetrable.

 

"Cas can you grab me a coffee please?" Dean asks. It's a more genuine ask than before and Castiel willingly flows from his seat.

 

"He can't do it again," Dean says as soon as Castiel's gone. He's trembling with the need to get his point across and probably fatigue as well. Dean looks better than when he arrived back from purgatory but he still looks deathly tired. "He's Cas now. He's not Jimmy. If Cas leaves then Jimmy  _will_  die."

 

Amelia wants to argue back but she knows the angel who looks at Dean with such longing will never leave if he has a choice.

 

Instead she nods. "He was my husband."

 

Dean is about to argue, about to shoot back at her last point when he realises she's not arguing with him. He's lost for words for a moment but settles on, “Yeah. I know. Sucks huh?"

 

"Worse than you can imagine."

 

Dean moves uneasily in the booth, setting his elbows on the table, almost hugging himself against the world but not letting himself succumb to the weakness. "Don't say that to a man who's gone to hell and purgatory and back."

 

Castiel raised Dean from hell. Amelia knows that. She also knows that Dean sold his soul for his brother’s life. She wasn't sure before whether he was stupid or mistakenly overconfident of his ability to dodge his sentence. Now she realises that for love of his brother, his friends, Dean would give up everything. And has. It's only because they return the favour that he is sitting here now.

 

A piece of the puzzle that is Dean Winchester falls into place.

 

"It's not easy seeing him like this. It's not easy to see him look at you as he once looked at me."

 

Dean turns away from the comment but she's sure he knows exactly what she meant. Sure that he felt the same jealousy when he caught her hugging Jimmy.

 

* * *

 

 

Sam arrives before Castiel gets back with the coffee. He slides in next to Amelia but he pays her no attention.

 

"I thought you'd sleep for a week Dean," he says, a quiet concern to his words.

 

"Couldn't sleep," comes the reply, but Deans not interested in fencing with his brother. Amelia might have rebuked her claim but Dean's still on edge. He's watching Castiel, brows low, and grim. As soon as the angel returns with the coffee Dean kicks him out of the booth.

 

"Cas we need to talk," he says climbing out after him. "About Purgatory things." The cover is for Sam's benefit who stares at them both confused.

 

Amelia can see Dean is still in a lot of pain, the way he holds his side and limps worse than before, but he pushes Castiel on with the speed of a man who's used to pain.

 

The younger brother lets them go with a shrug.

 

"What's between them?" Amelia asks him. Knowing that she'll never get Jimmy back, even when she'd had no hope before, makes her bold.

 

Sam lets out a long breath and shrugs again. "Cas pulled him out of hell."

 

"He pulled you out of hell too."

 

Sam nods and rubs his head, trying to put the memories of hell down. "It wasn't the same. My, um, my soul was still trapped. Cas wasn't strong enough."

 

Amelia tries to push down her automatic recoil but from the look on Sam’s face she doesn't think she's managed it. "You don't have a soul?"

 

Sam laughs at that, sweet and innocent. "No I have a soul. Someone stronger than Cas busted it out."

 

"Who?"

 

"Death."

 

She shakes her head. "This shouldn't make sense."

 

"Death's one of the horsemen. It was their rings that opened the pit so we could seal Lucifer away. He helped us. Cas never touched my soul."

 

Amelia thinks back to the looks passed between the two men, the anger in Dean, the thoughtfulness in Castiel. Castiel touched Dean's soul, dragged him back from hell and it inspired such devotion. It's a misused power in her eyes.

 

* * *

 

 

Amelia feels trapped in the small motel room they are sharing. She doesn't even have enough money to her name to get herself her own room and Sam has even less. She's uncomfortable when Dean suggests they go hustle some people at a local bar. He can barely keep himself on his feet let alone play pool. And as Sam points out, last time Castiel tried to hustle anyone they got kicked out the bar. Dean's laughing, holding his hurting ribs as they reminisce about Castiel's confusion when they tried to explain he had miss a few for it to seem real.

 

There are two double beds. Dean and Sam sleep on one. Amelia gets the other.

 

Castiel doesn't sleep. He spends his time between watching the window and watching Dean.

 

Amelia wraps the covers around herself and tries to sleep. She's woken by a shout.

 

* * *

 

 

Dean wakes, before he even rouses to consciousness he shouts Castiel's name, sitting up and reaching for any weapon he can find.

 

Castiel moves so fast it's obvious he isn't human. He's instantly before Dean grabbing the hunter's weaponless hands and holding tight.

 

"Dean. We are not in Purgatory anymore."

 

Dean quietens. He's still breathing hard but he has a grip on reality now. He nods, mouth slack and Castiel let's go of him.

 

Sam slaps him on the back. "I'm ok," Dean tells his brother settling down again. His eyes remain on Castiel like he's the only thing keeping him sane.

 

"Purgatory has marked you."

 

They all turn towards the newcomer. Amelia scrambles back out of bed. Each of the hunters has a weapon in his hands.

 

Sabrael stands by the doorway. He looks as he did before, innocent and kind.

 

"Brother?" he breaths, deep mahogany eyes on Castiel.

 

The angel in her husband’s body drops his blade and goes to him. There's relief on his face as he reaches Sabrael, hugs the other angel.

 

"It is good to see you Sabrael."

 

Castiel stands back, hands on his brother’s shoulders.

 

"Why do you come for me?" He drops his eyes, unable to look at the reminder of the people he has wronged so thoroughly.

 

"Because you are my brother."

 

"The things I have..."

 

"Stop Castiel. Stop. Only a stupid man judges anothers actions without thought to his reasons." He draws Castiel close, puts his forehead to his brothers. "Raphael wanted to destroy Gods last creation, his last gift. I don't doubt you believed you were doing the only thing you could when you opened purgatory. What you did when the souls warped your being cannot be lain on you."

 

"I dared to be a god."

 

"Castiel have you not heard what I said?" Sabrael's laugh rings like a child’s, like bells and the rain. "You were always so stubborn. I can't decide whether it was a surprise or not that you rebelled. You loved god more than anyone, but when you truly believed in something you could not just stand aside."

 

"I believed in him," Castiel says sliding his eyes toward Dean. "I believe in our father. I believe our father believes in him."

 

"Our father is gone."

 

"He does not want to be found. I looked. I prayed. I begged. He never answered."

 

"Lucifer broke his heart."

 

"Then I have broken his heart too."

 

"No. Heaven welcomes you back. Please Castiel. Come with me."

 

Amelia watches as Castiel considers. She wonders if this is the last time she will ever see Jimmy, looking tired and alien as he does now.

 

Dean drops his weapon to her right. He comes forward. In his eyes she sees the same worry as must be in her own: That this will be the last time.

 

"Cas?" he says swallowing his pain and his need.

 

The angel meets his eyes briefly before looking away. It pains Castiel too to leave.

 

Amelia realises he's made up his mind. He's scared of this mortal life, scared of how close he has become to a man destined to cause him eternal pain and die someday. In Sabrael he sees a future, stability and the family that he left giving him another chance. She feels for Dean, even feels a small pang of heartache for Castiel.

 

"We must make heaven strong again," he says and with the rush of wings they are gone.

 

Dean runs for the empty space, but he's not fast enough. Not to grab hold of the angel and keep him there.

 

* * *

 

 

Dawn and Amelia lets herself out. The motel room is full of tension. Dean doesn't stop pacing, his limp getting worse with each passing hour. He's a shell of anger and loss, the only words he's said curses.

 

Sam sits quietly. He knows he can do nothing for his brother except be there when he wants to talk. He doesn't know why Dean is taking it so hard, except he knows Dean is racked with nightmares of purgatory, all the stronger on top of his nightmares of hell. Castiel was Dean's one light in the darkness and now that light have gone out.

 

So she leaves, the night air cool against skin warmed by the heat of the anger Dean's throwing off.

 

The night is cloudless, the stars bright.

 

"Sabrael where is my daughter?" she whispers to the sky.

 

"Mom?"

 

She turns to see Claire standing in the parking lot where she hadn't been before.

 

"Oh my god," Amelia whispers not realising she calls the name of that she hasn't believed in these past 8 years.

 

"Mom it's ok," Claire says. She's older now, 20 years old. Claire is taller, slender with pale skin shining with health. The bruises under her eyes are gone, the blue undiminished. "It's all going to be ok." She steps forward holding her hands out.

 

She's dressed like they do, in a tailored suit, the neck of her white shirt open. Claire's long blonde hair is scraped back, caught in a bun at the nape of her neck.

 

She looks too proper, unlike her messy little girl who was always covered in paint or flour or grass stains. But it's been years since Claire's been that little girl. Even before the angels took her she had changed. The last time Claire painted was before Castiel.

 

"They'll rebuild heaven."

 

She smiles. Amelia breaks at her radiance.

**Author's Note:**

> There are canon divergences, or creative liberties is probably the better way to describe it! Such as Amelia's job, Claire's scars and eyes and Jimmy being there
> 
> The title was perhaps the hardest part. I'd been calling it 'Oneshot' to start with, but then when I realised I wanted to expand it beyond just a oneshot I chose 'Amelia's story'. This became the subheading and I chose 'The mask he wears' because this is Amelia's overwhelming thought every time she sees Cas.
> 
> The missing D/C scene will be in the seq!


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